


Misery

by cordkitty



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, NSFW, POV Lavellan, POV Solas, Poor egg, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Break Up, Romance, Smut, Unhealthy - Freeform, and very loving, angsty, angsty angry sex, but they need each other, explicit - Freeform, i hate the egg, i love the egg, lots of feels, lovesick love birds, poor babies, sad egg, sorry - Freeform, still a bit fluffy, they are bad for each other, too many of them, yet romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9672173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordkitty/pseuds/cordkitty
Summary: Solas and Lavellan try to deal, after what happened in Crestwood. First time I cried during writing. You'll see why.





	

Misery

It takes her hours to fall into uneasy sleep. Half of her can still feel her body turning from one side to the other restlessly; the other half is searching. It is wandering blindly, aimlessly, through impenetrable mists that hang in the air around her. She is cold, shivering, lost in a hopeless place. She walks for what feels like hours, each stretching on more endlessly, mercilessly, than the last. Can she ever find him? Is he even still here? Was he ever? The part of her that's lying in the sweat soaked covers of her bed notices the chilly night air on the side of her body, where his warmth should be. The muscles in her legs feel stiff and tired, straining with the effort it costs to go on. Will this nightmare never end? She knows it's that - a nightmare. And she dimly remembers what the world will feel like again, once she manages to free herself of this cold dream. It seems even more unbearable than the wafts of icy fog that ripple over her skin in this other world that she's traversing now. There's no escape. The darkness into which he has plunged her is everywhere, enveloping her; whether she is dreaming or awake, there's no way out. The dream ends as it always does. Her foot moves forward, one more step, just one more, and suddenly there's no ground beneath her anymore. She feels herself sucked downwards, weightlessly, with nothing to hold onto, and for a split second she feels relief as she's falling. It will mean an end. She lets herself be swept downwards gladly, then. As soon as the prospect of sweet oblivion begins to empty her head, she jerks awake with a yell.

*******

Solas is sitting on the cold stone floor in the rotunda, waiting - for what he does not know. He tries to make himself as small as possible as he curls up, his back against the wall, his forehead resting against his bent knees. He feels caged, trapped by his duty; he shed his responsibility for her for the sake of something that has to matter more. And much as logic insists that it was the right thing to do, it still doesn't feel right. How could he have let things get this far? How indulgent of him to think that he could have both, how naive to think that he could ever find justification for what he does to her. But it's worse than that, he wanted to believe so badly that she could even redeem him. He meant to imbue her with his love, meant to cover her in it, and put someone else first for once. 'I don't know who you are.' - He doesn't know, himself. He doesn't recall which came first - the man that cloaked himself in his sense of duty, his ambition to restore what he has wrecked, cool, aloof, collected. Or the man that lives according to his nature, wanting to love and be loved in return, wasting away gently in her arms.

The memory of hazy days, lazy hours, lying on his back on a window bench, watching flecks of dust swirling gently in rays of sunshine that fall through the open windows, while twirling her soft curls beneath his fingers idly. The gentle strum of a lute's strings being plucked lazily, it's carefree melody circling up to their room. The worst thing isn't that it has to be over for now; it's that it won't ever come back.

They see each other every day, there is no way of avoiding it. They look at each other as if from across a far distance. They don't need words to know that the other is just as miserable. Sometimes, they manage the saddest, smallest smiles to try and reach across that distance. It's almost imperceptible to anyone else, but they know what it means.

He feels on the brink on madness. Like a trapped animal that has nowhere to run. He tries to leave Skyhold a few times, and then remembers that the thing he left her for is still within his ancient castle's walls. It is inextricably linked to her. As is he.

***

Her footsteps make no sounds on the wooden steps that lead down her tower, and they still don't on the chilly stones of the floor in the rotunda. She doesn't know why she even came, he's surely sleeping now. At first glance, his room seems empty, and she wants to hang her head in shame for having talked herself into believing that his own grief would keep him up at such an ungodly hour. But then she notices the slumped figure on the floor. He sits, his back against the wall, his head leaning back. His hands cover his face. He's not sleeping, and her heart does a back flip.

"Solas?" Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

His hands rake down his face, and he looks at her. He seems unsurprised to see her here. There a dark circles beneath his eyes, and the stubble has returned to his head. He looks exhausted, thin, spent. When he gets up stiffly, she takes a step towards him. Then another. He doesn't move. His guard is back; he doesn't encourage her to move so close; closer than she's been ever since he left her standing by herself in a dark secluded glade at night, a desolate place. She doesn't know what to say.

When she reaches him, she stands still, hugging herself. She's been doing that a lot lately. He makes his arms stiff at his side, and he clenches his fists to keep his hands from reaching.

"Go back to bed." He sounds harsh, the forced rejection in his voice cutting. He clenches his jaw. Her lips tremble slightly.

Tears build up in her face; it doesn't take much these days. She's constantly on the verge of surrendering to them, and it's exhausting. She is so tired, she feels shattered and still haunted by the memory of the nightmare. She can't hold them back any longer. She sobs, her head hung in defeat at his icy words. It's as if someone has dragged her into the middle of a snowstorm, naked. There's nothing left to do, except beg for shelter.

"Solas. Please."

His brows knit together in apprehension at this. Why does she do this? She knows it's hopeless. He simultaneously feels impulses to shove her back and pull her close.

"I can't... sleep. I don't-" Her words are interrupted by the sobs that shudder through her body. "I... I don't know where to turn."

He doesn't either. She looks up at him, her lovely features drowned in sorrow, her face wet with tears. It can't be true that he has managed to rob her of her calm. There must be some left, somewhere, even if she can't see it now.

She grips his naked arms, clutches him so hard, her nails dig into his cold skin.

"Don't let this be the last thing we did to each other. Don't let those words be the last we said to one another. I can't bear the thought." She looks in danger of crumpling to the floor. "Just a few more days of peace. I heard what you said. I did. I know it must end, but not yet. You're still here; let me-"  Solas can sense her knees giving way even before it happens. He holds her up, just in time. She tries to steady herself. She would need him to be strong, resist, for both their sakes. Once she has regained the strength in her legs, he lets go of her shoulders. He regrets the touch.

She looks up at him again when her breathing has calmed enough. He doesn't answer. His expression is blank, stony, unmoving. She doesn't see the storm raging behind them silently; and with a desperate wail, she turns and stumbles blindly away, too soon to see one of his tears falling down his face. He looks after her, lost. The tension has left his arms.

She stops in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around her midst, as if she was in pain, holding her stomach. With her back to him, she raises her head and speaks into the air. "I don't know where I am. I can't remember who I am. There's nowhere to turn to. I won't face Corypheus. It doesn't mean anything to me anymore-" Suddenly, she feels a warm gust of wind behind her; as if a blanket was being thrown over her shoulders.

He comes to a halt behind her. She shivers as she feels him close to her. He raises his hands, and they come to rest on her shoulders, pressing down, grounding her. One snakes around the side of her neck, the other rakes down across her chest and beneath the hem of her dress. He knows that she understands; he will leave. She gives a shuddering breath and leans her head back against his shoulder, as he cups one of her breasts. His thumb grazes the bud of her breast and rolls it, making her moan softly. He leans in and takes her earlobe between his teeth, then kisses and bites the tender skin on her neck roughly. His breaths are ragged, and he turns her around none too gently. Before she knows it, her arms are flung around his neck, but he draws back a fraction of an inch.

"It will be worse, after."

"No, it won't. Nothing could be worse than this." And before she finishes the last word, her lips are on his. She doesn't know how it happens, but a few moments later he has lifted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and she feels cold stone against her back.

Solas tries to find something to hold onto, as she fumbles wildly with the button on his trousers, his sweating hands gliding down the stone wall behind her. She grabs his neck with one hand, and he lets go of her to pull the fabric down beneath his waist. He enters her in a rush, none of the wish to take his time with her left. He pounds into her, and she is slammed against the wall, gasping. She was waiting for him, her warm core expecting him, and he groans. It doesn't take longer than a minute, and when they both reach their peak, they look into each others' eyes.

When it's over and their breathing calms down, he puts her gently down in front of him. She feels a knot in her stomach and she tries to avoid his gaze, not knowing what is coming next. She couldn't take any more words of regret. But he doesn't speak. He takes her hands in his and as he sinks to his knees in front of her, places soft kisses on her palms. Then he puts them to the sides of his face, and he looks up at her once more, before he lifts her leg onto his shoulder.

He presses her against the wall again, steadying her, as he lets his tongue and lips soak up her sweet taste. And when she comes apart a second time, he looks up at her again, in wonder. She is all too willing to let him tear her to pieces, in every sense.

Her limbs feel sluggish now, the release of so much tension built by grief and her lack of sleep overcoming her. He stands up, and takes her in his arms. But she doesn't let him linger in the moment. She breaks the embrace too soon and looks at him. Her face is still stained from all the tears she shed, her hair is disheveled, her lips swollen from his hungry kisses. She hangs her head, and he thinks he can see a sad smile playing around her lips. Then she walks past him, without another word. Maybe she is seeing sense? But he has lost his again, and he would have been willing to let this only be the beginning of what he wistfully hoped would be a long night. After a few steps, she turns and looks at him, her hand outstretched. He smiles tiredly and follows.

***

He lets her sleep for a few hours, and he watches over her, trying to imprint every detail of her body on his tired mind for the hundredth time. When she wakes up, he's standing at the window, studying the night sky for any signs of dawn. But it still seems a long way off. She doesn't speak as she sits up in her bed, clutching her white linen cover to her chest. He turns, hesitates for a second, then moves towards the bed, sitting down on its edge. There are no words left to either of them. He sits still for a few minutes, and she watches him. He is deep in thought again. Then, without looking at her, he undoes the button on his trousers again and pulls them down. He turns, and nudges her side, telling her to move and make room for him. They lie there, looking at each other silently, their bodies pressed close without urgency.

He feels the words bouncing on his lips, urging him to speak them. But she gets there first. She always does.

"Say it." Her voice is calm and smooth. She's encouraging him to be true to himself, not pushing him or forcing him.

" _Ar lath ma_." She smiles, not needing to speak. "And don't ever doubt that."

They stay still like this for several more hours.


End file.
